


A Passionate Obsession

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco finds passion in the last place he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Passionate Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for HD_pots_n_porn's prompt #86: Sauce, for HD_fluff's prompt #110: quotes (Meet Joe Black quote: “Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with?”- William (Brad Pitt)), and for Enchanted_Jae's Monthly Drabble Challenge #108: attention, attractive, basking, charm, obsessed. 
> 
> **Beta:** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

A Passionate Obsession

~

There had been a time when Draco had thought he’d drift out of school and into an adulthood filled with adventure and wealth, where he would be the centre of attention no matter where he went, able to bask in the glow of being the most charming, the most attractive. 

“You’re falling behind, Malfoy. Those tables won’t clean themselves, you know.” 

Grant’s snapped words brought Draco back to the reality of his life and, sighing, he nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Picking up a cleaning rag which, to be honest, the old Draco would never even have entertained _touching_ much less using, he hurried over to the the recently vacated table and began wiping it down. 

People really were filthy. Had they been painting the table with their food? Shaking his head, Draco scooped the dishes and cups to one side and after he’d cleaned the table as best he could, swept them into a basin to take into the back for washing. 

There was a crowd at the cafe, and the moment he moved away from the table a new group of people sat down. 

Draco sighed. He’d never thought he’d be grateful to Granger for anything, but it was only because of her that he even had a job in the first place, such as it was. 

Because of legislation she’d introduced, house-elves had been offered their freedom and, to everyone’s shock, most had accepted. That had freed up jobs, jobs ex-Death Eaters had been able to take. Being a busboy wasn’t Draco’s first choice of career, but after a few weeks of going from business to business, Draco had jumped at this opportunity. Of course, a few house-elves remained with their owners, the most visible being the one Potter was famously maintaining, but the wizarding world had definitely changed. 

His hands deep in sudsy water as he washed the dishes, Draco shook his head. He’d gone at least ten minutes without thinking about Potter, but there he was again. He smiled. Pansy would be mocking him for his obsession if she were there. She could always tell when he was thinking about Potter. 

_I wonder what he’s doing these days?_ He’d all but disappeared after the war, Draco assumed doing something important and top secret for the Ministry-- A cuff to the back of his head made Draco wince. 

“Quit woolgathering, Malfoy! Back to work!” 

“Yes, sir,” muttered Draco, bending to his task. “Absolutely, sir.” Biting back resentment, he scrubbed harder. Grant hadn’t been obligated to take him on. People has urged him not to, but he’d done it anyway. Draco wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardise this job. Not when he was so close to a possible promotion.

The rest of his shift was busy but uneventful. It was payday, Draco’s favourite day, so when he reported to Grant’s office, he was in good spirits. 

Grant was a tough man, but fair. Draco was well aware that he could have ended up in a worse spot. “Here you go.” Handing him his packet, Grant’s eyes narrowed. “And on your way out, stop in the kitchen. I had cook make you up a package.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. Employees were typically not allowed free food. 

Grant huffed. “Don’t look at me like that that. I’m not getting soft, it’s just...we’re only going to throw it away, and you’re so skinny, you could use it. She’s giving you bread and pasta and some sauce, of course.” 

“Thanks, sir,” Draco said. 

Snorting, Grant once again bent over his books. “Go on, get out.” 

The package, which had a few extra things slipped into it by the cook, was heavy. Pleased, Draco exited the cafe in the back and started for home. Once he knew he was out of sight of any Muggles, he moved down an alleyway and, pulling his wand, Apparated home. 

Home was a tiny flat in a Muggle building. Draco could just afford it on his salary from the cafe, and it wasn’t much, but he wasn’t about to complain. It could always be worse. 

Depositing the food in the kitchen, Draco snagged a breadstick before putting Stasis Charms on the rest. There was at least three days worth of food there if he was careful. Draco smiled. _I may even be able to splurge on a drink at the local tonight._

It had been a while since he’d done anything so frivolous. Mind made up, Draco grabbed his coat and headed out the door. 

The local Muggle pub was called The Golden Lion. Draco snorted as he went inside. Walking up the bar, Draco sighed. While he’d have loved a Firewhisky or some elf wine, sadly, he’d have to settle for ale.

From the corner of his eye he saw the bartender approach. “I’ll have a pint of your house bitter,” he said. 

“Malfoy?” 

Slowly, Draco turned to look at the bartender. No, it wasn’t possible-- “Potter?” 

Potter blinked at him. “What are you doing here?” 

Draco exhaled. “I was planning on having a pint, actually,” he said. “But if you prefer I leave--” 

“No. Don’t.” Potter gestured to a stool. “Sorry, I was just...I’ll get you your pint.” 

As Potter turned away, Draco watched him. He clearly knew what he was about, moving with sparse efficiency as he poured Draco’s drink and slid it to him, then mixed some others for other customers. He then chatted briefly with each customer, leaving them all smiling and at ease. _He makes a good bartender. Who knew?_

When he returned, Draco was half way through his drink. “So, Malfoy, what brings you here?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Alcohol,” he said, tone dry. “You see, Potter, pubs are where people go when they want to have a drink and relax--” 

Potter grinned. “I know that, you git. I meant...why this pub?” He stiffened. “Were you looking for me?” 

“No.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about you Potter. This happens to be my local.” He sipped his pint. “Believe it or not, I didn’t know you were here. I live in a nearby building.” 

Potter’s posture relaxed. “But it’s a Muggle neighbourhood.” 

Draco snorted. “Yes, Potter. I do in fact know that.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind, actually.” He looked away. “My neighbours are quiet and no one knows or cares who I am.”

Potter nodded. “I like where I live for the same reasons. So what are you up to these days?” 

Surprisingly, Potter was easy to talk to, and before he knew it, Draco had told Potter all about his life and his job. Potter simply nodded and asked strangely perceptive questions that made Draco think. When Draco looked down at his drink forty minutes later, he’d finished his pint. 

“Another?” asked Potter, clearing the glass. 

Draco shook his head. “I shouldn’t. This was a luxury as it was.” 

Nodding, Potter wiped down the counter as Draco stood. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

Draco inclined his head. “Maybe.” He bit his lip. “You’re a good bartender, Potter.” 

“Thanks.” Potter grinned. “I try.” 

Draco couldn’t stay away, of course. After another long, gruelling day at the cafe, he was back the following night, and Potter simply smiled, placing a full glass of something before him. 

“What’s this?” Draco asked. 

“Elf wine.” Potter winked. “It’s from my personal stash. I’ve never liked the stuff, but people insist on giving me liquor, so you may as well enjoy it.” 

Draco shook his head. “I can’t afford--” 

“It’s on the house, Malfoy, a gift. After all, I can’t serve it to any Muggles.” Potter moved away. “I’ll be right back.” 

Draco sipped, almost moaning as the complex flavours burst over his tongue. It was delicious and he savoured every sip. Elf wine was potent, however, so by the time Potter returned, Draco was tipsy. 

As Potter poured him the rest of the bottle glass by glass, they talked, Draco being even more forthcoming about his life. At times Potter would have to go and serve other customers, and Draco would watch him. It was clear he enjoyed his job, and that his customers loved him. 

_He’s mellowed,_ Draco realised. _Maybe now he understands that not everything is black and white._

Draco stayed until closing, and when the place was empty and Potter was locking up for the night, he said, “I don’t understand you, Potter.”

Potter raised an eyebrow. “What don’t you understand?” 

“All this!” Draco waved his hands to indicate the pub. “Why are you bar-tending in an obscure Muggle pub when you could be famous and rich?” 

Potter pursed his lips. “I never wanted to be famous,” he said. “As for rich--” He shrugged. “I do all right. Life for me is about finding something I love, something I’m passionate about. I love talking to people, and I like it when they’re not intimidated or just talking to me because I’m that kid who killed the bad guy when I was seventeen. I just want to be a normal bloke.” He focussed on Draco. “What do you want from life?” 

“Me?” Draco snorted. “To not have to live hand to mouth is a start.” 

“Well sure.” Potter sighed. “But I mean once all your basic needs are met, what then? What do you love doing?” 

“Love?” Draco crossed his arms. “Love is...a strong word.” 

“It is,” agreed Potter. “For me, love is passion, obsession, something or someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with?”

Draco stared at him. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do.” A determined look crossed Potter’s face. “You end up with an ordinary life. I want to be a normal bloke living an extraordinary life.” 

Shaking his head, Draco walked towards him. When he was within touching distance, he extended his hand to Potter, who, despite obvious confusion, took it. Standing there, clasping Potter’s hand, Draco felt something loosen inside him. “I hate to tell you, but you’re not a normal bloke, Potter, and you’ll never be. You’re already extraordinary.” 

Potter raised an eyebrow. “Is this some bid to get me to give you free drinks every night?” 

Draco smiled. “No.” He widened his smile. “Although I wouldn’t say no to that.” 

Rolling his eyes, Potter nevertheless laughed. “Just for that I should show up at your job and give you baby Crup eyes until you give me free food.” 

Draco choked, imagining Grant’s reaction if Harry Potter showed up to eat at the cafe. “Maybe warn me before you come.” He frowned. “And I don’t give you baby Crup eyes.” 

“No?” Potter released Draco’s hand. “Well, maybe that’s just how I see you.” 

“Big, pathetic eyes?” 

Potter smiled. “Adorable despite the tendency to bite.” 

Draco blinked. “I don’t bite, Potter.” He hummed. “Well,” he amended. “Not unless the situation warrants.” 

A look of surprise crossed Potter’s face, and for a moment Draco wondered if he’d gone too far. Then, Potter licked his lips. “I think it’s about to,” he murmured. Flicking his hand, he turned out the lights and stepped up to Draco. “Ready to put you money where your mouth is?”

Draco smirked. “I have no money. But I’ll put my mouth wherever you like.” 

Potter lived two streets over, although his flat was fair sight bigger than Draco’s. Not that Draco got to look around much since as soon as Potter led him inside, he was on him, tugging off his clothes, devouring him. 

Finally naked, they stumbled into the bedroom, where Potter all but tossed Draco on the bed before straddling him. When he paused, giving Draco a searching look, Draco frowned. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to do this?” 

“Yeah,” Potter breathed. “I want to. I just--” He ran his thumb over Draco’s bare shoulder. “I don’t do this a lot.” 

“Sex?” 

“Sex with customers.” 

Draco smirked. “If you like, you can spot me drinks from now on. That way I technically won’t be a customer.” 

Potter laughed as he slid his hands down Draco’s body in a slow caress. “Then I’ll be bankrupt and neither of us will have any money.” 

“But there will still be sex,” Draco murmured, rolling his hips to slide their cocks together. Potter’s gasp made him smile. “And that can make up for a lot.” 

“Yes,” Potter agreed, pushing Draco’s legs apart. “It certainly can.” 

Despite his claim to the contrary, Potter proved adept at sex. By the time he coaxed Draco open for his cock with a slick press of fingers, Draco was writhing, begging. And when he slid into Draco with a sure, slow thrust, Draco practically came apart, rocking up to meet his every thrust. 

Potter kept his movements tortuously slow, even when Draco _did_ bite his shoulder in a bid to get him to speed up, and it was only after Draco came spurting between them that he finally pounded into him, emptying himself into Draco with a low cry. 

When Draco caught his breath, he wondered for a moment if Potter wanted him to go. For all their joking earlier, he hadn’t assumed that what they’d done had been anything more than a one-off. 

But when he shifted as if to get up, Potter’s arm went around him. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please.” 

Unable to help himself, Draco smiled. “Very well.” And, settling in Potter’s embrace, Draco allowed himself a moment to bask in the afterglow. Maybe his childhood goal hadn’t been that far off after all. A relationship with Potter was certain to be full of adventure and passion. And he was already obsessed. He smiled, curling close. _I could get used to this._

~


End file.
